


Push me again!

by Queenofthebees



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angry Sex, Arranged Marriage, Dom Jon Snow, Everyone knows it, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, Robert is cool with Jon, Spanking, Tumblr Prompt, he marries Sansa to stay in the north and to keep Robert happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2019-07-07 06:32:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15902784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queenofthebees/pseuds/Queenofthebees
Summary: As the door gave way, he pressed a hand to her back to stop her falling backwards before stepping forward, making her step back into the room. His mouth claimed hers again in a rough kiss, his fingers already tugging harshly at the back of her dress, desperate to free her soft skin.Growling in annoyance at the laces not cooperating, he gripped the material and pulled hard, tearing it easily and allowing it to fall away from her chest. Sansa's yelp of surprise was extended as he nudged her onto the bed, eagerly parting her legs and stepping between them.Or: all Sansa needed was some good D to mellow her out so she isn't constantly falling out with Arya!





	Push me again!

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt on tumblr  
> Dark or dominant Jon who is sick of Arya and Sansa fighting. He sees that only Arya ever seems to get in trouble so he sets out to punish/teach Sansa a lesson. In the process of debauching his ever proper and ladylike sister/cousin, she becomes less uptight and snobby. All she really needed was that good D to mellow her out a bit. ;) the stark sisters relationship end up better and everyone is happier for it... Thanks to Jon.  
> This isn't exactly what you asked for but I hope you still like it.

The peaceful quiet of the room was destroyed by the high-pitched scream outside his door. Jon barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes, scowling at the page he had been reading as he recognised Sansa and Arya’s voices outside.

“You’re ruined it!” Sansa screeched.

“I didn’t mean to!”

“You never mean to but you always do! It was my favourite scarf! Gods Arya you’re so clumsy!”

“And you’re so mean!”

Jon sighed, placing the book down beside him, resigning himself to the fact that he was not going to get any peace to read while this argument was going on outside his door. And even when Catelyn came across the two, Jon usually ended up annoyed with the fact that it was always Arya who got in trouble.

Jon had no doubt that Arya wound Sansa up sometimes and definitely would be guilty some of the time. But he also knew that Sansa was not completely innocent. She could be mean to her sister, even if she didn’t actually mean to be.

He rolled out of bed and stormed to the door, wrenching it open to glare at the bickering sisters. Sansa’s lips parted as she met his eyes and her own pupils dilated, distracting Jon for a moment before he shook his head and scowled at them both once more.

“Can’t you bicker somewhere else?” he asked. “In fact, can you stop bickering because you - ” He gestured towards Sansa, “are six and ten. And you -” he gestured towards Arya, “are four and ten. You both should be more mature!”

And with that, he slammed his door shut on them and returned to his book.

***

It was several hours later when his wife came to his rooms, resting against the door nervously. Jon hoisted himself up, giving her a curious gaze. She had never come to his chambers before but he liked the development. Because, for all the newness of their marriage and sexual relationship, the awkwardness that still lingered and his annoyance at her constant bickering with Arya, he enjoyed her company at night.

Not just in bedding her, they had only coupled twice since their marriage two moons before before  he had sensed she wasn’t ready for that intimacy. He had told her not to worry and they had time before they would be expected to have children.

But the fact she was warm beside him when she came to his bed and the way she curled into his side as they just cuddled and talked about their day made him smile.

"Are you angry with me?" she asked, toying with the hem of her shift.

"No," he replied instantly but her raised brow told him she didn't believe him.

"You seemed angry with me before," she said, her chin rising defiantly, daring him to challenge her statement.

Jon sighed, flopping back against the pillows. When he didn't hear her moving, he raised his head again.

"Are you coming to bed or not?" he huffed.

"Answer me." She stepped up to the edge of the bed in challenge.

"I'm not angry with you," he insisted, throwing an arm across his eyes in his frustration. "I just get annoyed at you two constantly fighting over silly things. And Arya is always getting in trouble for it."

"She -"

"Don't start!" Jon growled, making Sansa's mouth clamp shut again with another hitch of her breath.

After a few seconds of silence, she lifted the covers and climbed in beside him, snuggling into his side. Jon raised his arm to help her get close before curling it over her shoulder, pulling her closer with a gentle palm on the small of her back.

For now, he would hold his wife and not think about her constant bickering with her sister.

***

“Arya! Stop tormenting your sister!” Catelyn sighed as she caught Arya snatching the lemon cake off Sansa’s plate.

Jon pursed his lips, knowing full well that Sansa had taken the last lemon cake without asking Arya if she wanted it when she knew her sister hadn’t had one yet. Still, he didn’t think it was his place to correct Lady Stark on such a detail. So instead he fixed Sansa with a disapproving stare when she glanced at him.

That look was there again, accompanied by a pink stain to her cheeks as she averted her eyes. And it made Jon wonder what he could do to see such a colour bloom on her skin when they were alone in their chambers. But his annoyance was still pumping through him, raising his blood and the sudden image of her spread over his lap as his hand came down on her pert bottom flashed through his mind. 

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, focusing intently on his food as he tried to will the images away.

Thankfully, he had training and that would take his mind off such thoughts. He could hardly think of bedding Sansa when she had given him no indication that she wanted him to resume such things. He had been managing fine with his hand so far. And, after all the kindness the Starks had shown him, keeping him in the North and convincing Robert not to kill him, he wasn't going to force himself on Sansa.

"Well Stark, you know the saying. If you can;t say anything nice, don't say anything at all. And, well, I certainly found a way for her not to say anything!"

Jon rolled his eyes at Theon's voice traveling across the courtyard. Hearing the ward talk about his conquests was not going to help his mood. Especially since he had seen Theon looking at Sansa with lust on more than a few occasions.

But it seemed that today, Theon had no intention of shutting up.

"Anyway, why haven't you persued Jeyne Poole yet?"

Robb flushed. "It was only a kiss!"

"She wanted more!"

"Don't be ridiculous," Robb scoffed. "Just because you have no restraint doesn't mean everyone wants to bed each other."

"Women want it as much as men," Theon insisted, his eyes cutting to Jon. "Jon will tell you that!"

"No," Jon replied. Not just because of Robb being there, the idea of his sister being bedded running through his head, but because it was true. Sansa had shown no such interest.

Theon tutted. "Perhaps you should pay more attention before someone else does."

"Like you?" Jon snapped. Theon barely flinched, his lips curling into a smirk.

"If you're offering!"

"Stop it!" Robb snarled as Jon shoved Theon back. "Stop talking about my sister like that!"

Jon stepped back, still glaring at Theon as he went to fetch his sword. 

His anger didn't disipitate as the training went on. In fact, he was riled all the way through, attacking Robb with far more force than necessary because he couldn't hit Theon...yet. But when he faced Theon, the ward beat him. The fact that such a thing was rare didn't help improve Jon's mood and he tossed his sword aside in his huff and stormed off, ignoring Rodrick's calls for him to come and tidy up.

He passed the sewing rooms on the way to his own chambers. The tittering of Jeyne Poole caught his ear and he glanced inside in time to see the steward's daughter smirking in Arya's direction. Jon didn't doubt that the girl was making fun of Arya, she often did. Sansa remained focused on her needlework, frowning to herself. Jon knew she would never be cruel to her sister, but she wasn't defending her either. It was the final straw and he barked out his wife's name, making all the gathered ladies jump in surprise.

He regretted it immediately when Sansa met his eyes, her own wide like a doe about to be slaughtered. He cleared his throat.

"I...would you accompany me please?"

"Of course my lord," she said smoothly, placing her needles in the basket by her feet and smoothing her skirts as she stood.

Taking her hand, he led her through the corridors to his chambers, frustration still coursing through his blood. And he thought sourly, she had started his day off wrong with her bickering with Arya. She had been the reason he was so riled with Theon. So, when he reached his door, he turned abruptly, pushing her against the door and swallowing her surprised gasp with his mouth hard on hers.

As he hiked up her skirts, Sansa wrenched her mouth away, her hands on his shoulders to gently push him back as she gave him a reproachful look. "Jon, what are you doing?"

"Hush," he growled, his hand fumbling with the door handle behind her. Perhaps fucking her against the door in the corridor was a bit too far. Inside his chambers though...

As the door gave way, he pressed a hand to her back to stop her falling backwards before stepping forward, making her step back into the room. His mouth claimed hers again in a rough kiss, his fingers already tugging harshly at the back of her dress, desperate to free her soft skin.

Growling in annoyance at the laces not cooperating, he gripped the material and pulled hard, tearing it easily and allowing it to fall away from her chest. Sansa's yelp of surprise was extended as he nudged her onto the bed, eagerly parting her legs and stepping between them.

He reached a hand beneath her skirts, pulling her small clothes down to her knees as he nipped at her collarbone, sucking a purple mark into her shoulder and making her gasp and arch against him. He had never been so rough with her before, they had barely coupled at all. But he was blinded with need, anger getting his blood up and all his body wanted was to fuck it out. 

Her nails buried into his forearms as he pushed forward and he groaned as her tight heat gripped him. His hand gripped the covers by her head, steadying himself as he started to rock against her in hard, deep thrusts which had her own arms stretching out to prevent her being shoved up the bed. 

The tiny part of his brain still capable of rational thought worried about hurting her as he gripped her hip tightly with his rough palm, his teeth marked her shoulder and his beard caused her skin to bloom red as he nuzzled against the top of her breast. But from his little experience with her, he knew the sweet sounds she made as pleasure claimed her. And as they grew louder, her hands reaching for him and pulling him down, clutching him close as she whimpered and wailed her way to her peak, he realised that she was enjoying such a coupling.

And that made him drive into her even harder, his anger at her behaviour evaporating with every roll of his hips, every hitch of her breath and broken moan of his name. He could feel his own release stirring in his gut and, with his blood still up, he pulled out and flipped her around. She barely managed to clutch the furs for purchase before he had shoved his skirts up to her back and slammed back in, the force sending her tumbling into the bed with a gasp.

His hand came down on her ass before he could think about it, the need to let out his anger clouding his judgement. Sansa yelped, giving him a startled look over her shoulder. Jon cupped the reddened flesh with his palm, soothing it as he leaned over her again.

"That was for being a brat," he growled. 

She whimpered as her back arched and her breath hitched.  Jon moaned as she tightened around him, his thrusts fast and rough as he drove them to their peaks. 

Sansa's fingers curled into the covers, her knuckles white with the force of her grip as she buried her head against the furs with a long groan of his name. Her cunt clamped around him, her whole body tensing with her climax and sending Jon tumbling over the edge with her with a few last, deep thrusts.

He pulled out of her, the pair of them still panting desperately as he stepped back. He ran a hand through his hair, shame fast replacing the anger from before as he glanced over at her again, watching her pull herself up on shaky arms.

"I'm sorry," he said, perching himself on the edge of his desk. Sansa turned to him.

"I ...I didn't mind," she mumbled, her cheeks turning pink with the confession and making her eyes lower shyly.

"I know," he whispered, grinning when her cheeks turned darker still. "But I shouldn't have taken my anger out in such a way with you."

Sansa opened her mouth but then closed it immediately, simply giving a nod in response instead.

"I will have to find another dress," she said, giving him a disapproving look as she held the ruined bodice of her dress to her chest. 

Jon felt his own cheeks heat at that and he turned to take his cloak from the chair before crossing the room to wrap it around her shoulders. He pressed a kiss to her temple, hoping that the affectionate gesture would assure her that he was sorry.

"It won't happen again my lady," he promised. 

Sansa didn't reply.

***

The mud splattered against Sansa's dress and his trousers as they rounded the corner and Arya skirted to a halt, eyes wide with apprehension. Jon huffed beside his wife, his eyes already closing as he prepared for the inevitable bickering to start.

"I'm sorry! I didn't know you were there!" Arya said quickly.

_And now Sansa will tell her not to run around like a wild beast._

"No matter, it will wash out. Or I can dye it a darker colour to cover it."

Jon jerked his head in her direction, his lips parted in surprise. Arya didn't look much more composed and she glanced at Jon for answers. He merely shrugged.

"Shall we go continue Jon?" Sansa asked, breaking them from the silent surprise clouding them. Jon nodded, gesturing with his hand for her to walk on. He glanced back at Arya, giving her a confused raise of his brows as she continued to stare after them in bewilderment.

"That was...nice," he said as they walked into the Godswood.

"You sound surprised," Sansa teased, nudging her hand with his until their fingers laced together.

"Well, yes," he replied honestly. "Normally, you scream at Arya when she ruins your dresses."

"I'm in a good mood this morning," she stated simply, tugging his hand to make him stop as she knelt beside a bunch of pink flowers. She stroked the petals a couple of times before glancing up at him. "Will you come to me tonight?"

"I have to ride out early tomorrow," he answered regretfully. There was a hunt scheduled in the morning for the visiting Karstarks.

Sansa's face fell for a brief second before she composed herself. "Of course my lord. I forgot about the hunt."

She stood quickly, bidding him goodbye with the excuse of needing to change her dress. Jon stared after her in confusion before it dawned on him.

_Women want it as much as men._

He scoffed, annoyed at Theon's voice in his head. And, the fact that the iron born appeared to have been correct had annoyed him even more.

***

"You promised!" Arya yelled across the courtyard, her hands curling into fists.

"Well, I have better things to do now!" Sansa snapped. "Jon is due home soon!"

"You promised we could go riding. You promised you would ask mother to let us!"

"That was before I remembered about the hunt! I have to fix my hair for him returning..."

"Jon doesn't care about your stupid hair! You're so vain!"

"You're being ridiculous," Sansa huffed. "When you're married you'll understand."

"I won't!" Arya snarled. "I'll never marry, and I'll never be as silly and selfish as you!"

"You're just jealous!"

"Girls!" Catelyn called from the balcony, frowning down at where the sisters were fighting. "What in the seven has gotten into you? You know better."

The girls muttered an apology and then Arya glowered at Sansa before turning and running away towards the Godswood. Sansa sighed in frustration, perching herself on the pile of barrels placing her head in her hands. Despite what everyone seemed to think, she didn't want to argue with her sister. She just didn't understand why Arya was the way she was. And lately, she had been getting annoyed at the smallest things anyway and Arya had always been the one who could rile Sansa up at the best of times. 

She missed Jon. She wanted him to come to her bed and take his rights. It was something she had wanted for a long time now but had been so ashamed to admit it. And then, the night before last, when he had stole her from her lessons and taken her like an animal...she had thought that perhaps he had wanted her all this time too and had finally given into his desires. She had thought that they would be able to couple more regularly and had even foolishly hoped he would come back later for more.

But she had been wrong. He hadn't come back that night and he hadn't come to her last night either.

The horns jolted her from her thoughts and she stood abruptly as the gates were opened to allow the hunting party through. She smiled at her father and Jon as they pulled their horses to a stop before her.

"My lady," Jon greeted once he was standing in front of her. He pressed a kiss to her hand.

"I missed you," she said, her free hand grasping his arm to keep him close. 

"I've only been gone the morning," he chuckled as his fingers lingered at the skin on the back of her hand. 

"Jon!" Arya called, appearing amongst the gathered people. "You didn't care that Sansa's hair wasn't pretty, did you?"

"Stop it Arya!" Sansa hissed, feeling the blush on her face as Jon furrowed his brow in confusion.

"She said we could go riding today, she promised! But then she broke the promise because she had to fix her stupid hair for you!"

Jon groaned, rubbing a hand over his forehead. "Can a day go by without the pair of you winding each other up?"

"She  _promised_!" Arya snapped.

"She doesn't understand how important it is to me!" Sansa countered. 

"Enough!" Jon growled, glaring between the pair of them.

Sansa felt her lips part of their own accord, the familiar stir bubbling in her belly at the look on his face. It made her flush from her hair to her chest and she ducked her head away in shame when he gave her a strange look in response. If he ever knew how much she liked him like this, he would surely cast her aside. He wouldn't want such a wanton girl for a wife.

"Arya, go and speak to your father about riding," Jon said suddenly, though his eyes remained on Sansa. "You, come with me."

Sansa's breath hitched with worry but she stepped beside him all the same. Arya frowned after them as Jon led her towards the Godswood.

She had assumed they would go to the springs or the heart tree to discuss what had happened. But to her surprise and puzzlement, Jon tugged her hand and led her down a path that led down into an enclosed area of the woods. She frowned around her, wondering why he would bring her here.

Her answer came suddenly when he shoved her against the nearest tree and claimed her lips furiously. Sansa moaned, her body sagging submissively in his arms as he gripped her leg and hiked it up around his waist. His other hand hiked up her skirts until he was able to press himself against her dampening small clothes.

Sansa whimpered as she felt him hard against her, his hips rolling teasingly over her clothed sex. He pulled his mouth away, pressing his forehead against hers as he hooked his fingers into her small clothes and wrenched them down. 

She had expected him to enter her instantly, like he had done before in his frustration. But her legs twitched in surprise when he pressed his fingers to her clit and started to rub in slow circles that made her sigh and writhe. Jon hummed against her neck, his teeth ghosting against her pulse as his fingers started to speed up. 

Sansa's hips canted upwards, seeking more of his touch, even if it was embarrassing how quickly she was approaching her peak. She could feel the sweat on her temple, her eyes struggling to stay open and her mouth unable to stay quiet as Jon continued to press his fingers in faster, harder circles that made her buck and whimper with uncontrolled pleasure.

"Peak for me Sansa," Jon growled. "Let me make you feel good."

"Jon," she whined, her head falling back against the tree. She should care about the twigs and leaves that were catching in her hair, but all she wanted to think about was the glorious pleasure that was building in her belly.

"That's it sweetheart," Jon cooed against her ear. "Show me what a good girl you are for me."

Sansa bit into his shoulder to stop the embarrassing wail from falling from her lips, her hands clutching him so tight that they had turned completely white. He gripped her body as it went boneless in his arms, backing her against the tree once more and kissing her more slowly this time.

"You need to stop fighting with Arya. It is driving me mad!"

"It isn't always me!" Sansa snarled, pushing him away from her as the bliss from her climax faded and was replaced with annoyance.

"No. But when it is, you are just as bad. And I won't stand for it."

"It isn't any of your business what I do with my sister," Sansa scoffed, moving to walk around him with the intention of walking away.

Jon growled, grabbing her wrist and pulling her back towards him. She blinked in surprise, yelping as Jon pulled them both down to the ground only to pull her into his lap. She bucked against him, snarling like a wild wolf as he gripped her hands and pushed them agaisnt her back. As he raised her skirts, she realised what he was going to do right before his hand came down on her ass.

"You can be  **thwack** the most  **thwack** annoying  **thwack** little  **thwack** brat  **thwack** sometimes!"

Sansa moaned, her face flushing with shame as she felt the wetness against her thighs. Spanking was a punishment, it was something that their parents did when they were bad and Jon had clearly thought her constant bickering with Arya deserved such a punishment too. But she was positive she wasn't meant to like it.

"Sansa," he said suddenly when he heard her sniff. "I'm sorry if I was too hard. I..."

"I liked it," she moaned pitifully, bowing her head in shame. Jon was silent for a long moment.

"Yesterday," he murmured, his hand now stroking her reddened flesh tenderly before helping her sit up in his lap. "When you said you were in a good mood...was that because of ...what we did?"

Choking back the tears of having to admit her depravity, she nodded.

"I see."

"I've wanted you so badly," she admitted brokenly, clenching her eyes shut so she didn't have to say his reaction.

"Oh Sansa," he replied, mirth lacing his tone and making her glance up at his face. "You should have said. I'm more than happy to see to your needs."

"I...you aren't disgusted with me?" she asked tentatively. Jon's grin was positively wicked.

"To know that my wife desires me? Absolutely not!" He gently nudged her off of his lap, coaxing her to lie down on the ground.

Sansa watched him hike her skirts up, her cheeks flushing as he slid to his stomach. He had gone to such a position on their wedding night and proceeded to kiss her between her legs, much to the delight of them both. And she knew, as his hands parted her thighs and his tongue licked through her folds, they would be delighted all over again.

***

"Something strange is going on," Robb declared at breakfast a few days later, frowning into his bowl.

"Hmmm?" Catelyn prompted, glancing up from her oatmeal to look at her son.

Robb didn't answer, merely inclined his head towards the door where Sansa and Arya were entering the hallway, giggling about something. Catelyn raised her eyebrows in pleasant surprise.

"It has been rather quiet recently," she agreed, smiling as the sisters joined them at the table and Sansa offered the plate of fruit to Arya.

"I have no idea what changed," Robb commented, turning to Jon. "But I hope it continues."

Images of last night, Sansa's legs pushed back against her chest as he pounded into her flashed in Jon's mind, the way she had cried out his name ever more desperately with her first, second,  _third_ peak. He pressed his lips together to stop from smirking smugly, meeting Sansa's eyes across the table.

"I'm sure it will," he said smoothly.

 

 


End file.
